Epilogue
I take a deep breath and push open the swing doors to Top Dim Sum. Noise spills out, a cacophony of Mandarin, Cantonese, Hokkien, and other Chinese dialects I can’t identify. At the reception desk, the host is already overrun by throngs of loud aunties and uncles asking about their tables.
“Oof,” I breathe out. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to the noise of Sunday dim sum. A strong hand finds mine and gives it a reassuring squeeze.
“I’m hungry,” Nathan says, grinning down at me. “I can’t wait.”
“Ha,” I give him a weak laugh. I’m still half-convinced that one of these days he’ll realize what a crazy mess my family is and decide he’s better off without me. But no—I catch myself. No, he’s lucky to have me. I’m lucky to have him. We’re meant for each other. I smile up at him, and this time, my smile’s less nervous. “Come on, they’ve got a table already.”
We weave our way through the heaving crowd, into the main dining room.
“Meddyyyy!” someone yells over the noise, and I look over to see Ma and Fourth Aunt waving their arms like they’re one of those dancing balloon thingies outside of car dealerships. “Over heeeere!” they shout again, even though I’ve already waved in acknowledgment and we’re very clearly walking toward them. My family, I swear.
“Wah, finally you arrive,” Ma says, standing up and giving Nathan a hug. She squeezes my cheek like I’m all of two years old. We greet the rest of my aunties, and they all smile and start piling food on our plates.
“Ayo, makan!”
“Makan, makan!”
For a few minutes, we’re quiet as we tuck into delicious, steaming plates of siu mai and har gow.
“You look healthy, Meddy,” Big Aunt says in Mandarin.
“Yep, you really do,” Nathan says. Unlike mine, his Mandarin is flawless. Yet another reason why Ma and my aunts adore him.
“Really? I think you look a bit tired, dear,” Ma says, before Fourth Aunt obviously kicks her under the table.
“Remember, you’re supposed to be supportive?” Fourth Aunt whispers in a volume loud enough to be heard over the din of the restaurant.
Ma nods and faces me again. “Ah yes, I was wrong. You don’t look tired. You look radiant, very well-fed, so different to when I last saw you.” Still, when she smiles, it’s obvious that she’s trying her best to hide her sorrow.
I reach out for her hand. “Ma,” I say, gently. “I see you literally every day. You know exactly how I look.” Which is true. The woman pops up at my apartment first thing every morning with a stash of home-cooked food, and most nights I have dinner at her place. It’s not so bad; my apartment’s on Broadway, one block away from the Asian supermarket she goes to, so she makes every excuse she can to drop by. And as much as I hate to admit it, I love seeing my mom every day. It’s made moving out a lot less hard on both of us.
“Aiya, your mom just misses you,” Second Aunt scolds without any bite.
“I know, I miss you too,” I say, squeezing Ma’s hand.
“I don’t like this whole modern thing where young women live on their own,” Big Aunt says.
“Yes, it’s very dangerous,” Second Aunt agrees. They’re so much more annoying now that they’re agreeing with each other.
“Yes, Nathan, this is all your fault. Meddy moved out of my house because of you,” Ma says.
“Whoa, why me?” Nathan cries, raising his hands and looking incredibly adorable.
“Maybe so you can be having all the sex,” Ma grumbles in English.
“Ma!” I give Nathan an apologetic grimace, but he just shakes his head with silent laughter. I mean, she’s not wrong, but STILL.
“It’s okay, I am very modern,” Ma says, switching back to Mandarin.
“Since when?” Fourth Aunt mutters.
“I’m so modern I don’t even care if you get married or not, as long as you give me my grandbabies.”
“Ma,” I groan. But Nathan looks far from being scared off. He’s laughing easily, his eyes twinkling as he watches me interacting with my family. “Are you done embarrassing me? Because I actually have something to show you,” I say.
Ma waves at me to go on, and I rummage in my bag and take out a glossy magazine, which I put in the middle of the lazy Susan. There’s a moment when Big Aunt and Ma look around for their reading glasses. Then they all lean forward and squint at the magazine.
“Martha Stewart Wedd—oh my god,” Fourth Aunt says. “No! Really? We’re in there?”
I grin at them. “Yep, really. It’s on page 20. A three-page spread with pictures of everything—the cake, your flowers, the amazing makeup.”
“The resort,” Nathan adds. “All captured beautifully by Meddy.” He grins at me, and my heart splits wide open. It always does at that smile.
My mom and aunts squeal and chatter happily as they flip to the pages showcasing Jacqueline and Maureen’s wedding. “Wah, the cake is so, so pretty,” Second Aunt says.
Big Aunt smiles at her and says, “And the brides look very beautiful.”
Ma beams through her tears. “Look, our business name is there.” And sure enough, underneath the big title is a list of vendors, clearly listing the name of the family company. And, below that: Photographed by MC Photography.
I’m no longer part of my family’s business. We’re affiliated, and I’m always referring clients to them and vice versa, and sometimes, as was the case with Jacqueline and Maureen’s wedding, we work together. But other than that, I’m mostly done with big weddings. Breaking away was hard at first for all of us, but they soon got used to Seb, which is unsurprising because he’s amazing, and I soon found my niche: photographing the in-betweens. I do just about everything, from engagements to newborns to families who just want to capture the joy in their lives, and I love it. My website is filled with kissing couples and laughing babies. I guess it doesn’t hurt that I often suggest Nathan’s gorgeous resort as the location of their shoot. The cross-pollination has been good for all of us.
“And Martha Stewart Weddings is only the first to publicize our story,” Nathan says. “We’ve lined up a whole lot of other online wedding publications too. Prepare to be booked out for the next two years.”
Big Aunt, who handles all the bookings, has been sworn to silence. But at this she yelps, “It’s true! We’re already book out this year!”
The other women stare at her. “What? Just the other night you were talking about being worried because we have no customers,” Ma says.
“Aiya, obviously I was just making it up. You see, Meddy? I’m good at keeping secrets, right? Meddy was very sure that I wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret.” She grins proudly while the others shake their heads and then says, “Aaand, guess who booked us last night.” She doesn’t give anyone time to guess before squealing, “The Sutopos!”
“What?” we all squawk.
“Sutopo as in . . . Tom Cruise Sutopo?” I say. “Why in the world would they want to hire you guys again after what happened last time?”
“Tsk, they know it’s not our fault,” Big Aunt says, flapping her hand at me.
“I mean, it sort of definitely was our fault,” I mutter.
“Okay, they don’t know that. When they saw us in Martha Stewart Weddings, they said to us: ‘You are the best in this area. We must top Jacqueline and Maureen’s wedding so that we can save face! We’ll pay you double; make sure the wedding is better in every way.’”
“Wow. Here’s to Tom, I guess. I hope he’s found someone more . . . suitable for him.” Someone who’s less likely to take his bullshit.
Ma sighs loudly. She waits until all the attention is on her before saying in English, “All these people get marry.” She looks pointedly at me and Nathan.
“Ma, come on,” I groan. “You said you wouldn’t—”
Nathan gives my hand another squeeze and says, “It’s fine. I know, Auntie, I’m sorry we’re taking our time. There have been a lot of things we had to take care of, but you’re right.”
“I am?” Ma says.
The table falls silent. “Nathan,” I whisper. “I think they’re getting the wrong idea.”
In answer, he nods at a nearby waiter, who grins and walks toward us with a small bamboo steamer. What. As though in slow motion, I turn to look at Nathan. He smiles at me. I look at the waiter.
“Oh god,” I whisper.
The bamboo steamer is placed before me, and the waiter opens it with a flourish, revealing a navy blue velvet box inside.
“Nathan. Really?” I can’t say anything else. My throat has closed up with tears. Dimly, I sense my family members flapping like headless chickens, and the commotion catches the eye of the other diners, who turn and watch us with unconcealed interest.
Nathan takes the box out of the steamer and gets down on one knee. Without taking his gaze from mine, he smiles and says, “Meddelin Chan, will you marry me?”
“YES!”
I look around in surprise. The yes had come from my mother. The aunties yank her back. I turn back to Nathan. The man I’ve loved for all of my adult life. The one who got away. The one who, against all odds, found me again. The man of all my dreams.
I’ve hidden him from my family for so long. It’s only fitting that I make this declaration in front of them, here and now, in this heavily quiet dim sum restaurant.
“Yes.”
The roar envelops all of us, a heady rush of congratulations all around, and I know then, as I have never known before, that Nathan and I are home.